


scarves

by memitims



Series: chicago pd [8]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Light Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2181843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mickey is dragged to liam's soccer game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	scarves

“You sure you wanna do this?” Ian asked, as he grabbed their coats from the closet and threw Mickey’s at him. “My whole family’s gonna be there.”

Mickey sighed. “For fucks’s sake, Ian. It’s a soccer game, not a goddamn prison sentence.”

“Okay,” Ian said. “I’m just giving you fair warning.”

Mickey didn’t respond. He stalked over to the closet and fished out his favorite blue plaid scarf, wrapping it once around his neck. Ian’s reached up to help straighten the scarf and Mickey batted his hands away.

“Leave my fucking scarf alone,” Mickey grumbled. “Don’t need your help.”

“Fuck you. Just tryin’ to be nice.”

“Go be nice in the car.” Mickey steered Ian out the door. “Or we’re gonna be late.”

They took Mickey’s car, because Ian could be really fucking lazy sometimes and refused to drive, even though they were going to  _his_  little brother’s game. Liam played for his school and had games on the weekends (when there wasn’t too much snow on the ground and the field was clear, and Mickey had no fucking idea why there was soccer in fuckin’ January, but he guessed a little snow never stopped anyone in Chicago), and apparently there was a law in the books that all the Gallaghers had to attend his games. Which meant Mickey got dragged along by Ian if they weren’t working that weekend.

(Also, the heater in Ian’s car was pretty shitty, and Mickey could not handle a constant stream of Ian’s innuendos about ‘warming’ him up this morning.)

Liam’s game wasn’t too far from Mickey’s apartment, so the ride was over pretty quickly, and Mickey only had to listen to about ten minutes of Ian’s predictions for today’s game. Not that listening to Ian was a chore, he was kinda cute when he got all worked up about middle school soccer. Mickey would never tell him that, though.

The blustery winter wind whipped Mickey’s scarf around his head when they stepped out of the car and he had to fix it three times before it stayed put. Mickey fucking hated wind. Ian laughed at him and swung an arm around Mickey’s shoulders to keep the scarf in place, and Mickey ignored the urge to shrug it off. Ian’s arm felt nice around him.

A trio of Gallaghers waved them over to the stands, and Mickey squinted at them, picking out Carl, Debbie, and Fiona among the crowd. They waved hello to him and Ian, and they slid onto the outer edge of the bench.

“My brother looks skinny.” Debbie leaned over to whisper in Mickey’s ear. “You been feeding him enough?”

“Fuck off, Debbie,” Mickey said. “Guy eats like crazy. He practically ate a whole fucking chicken the other night. Not my fault if the fucking million miles he runs everyday keeps him skinny.”

“Stop talking about me,” Ian grumbled under his breath. “And  _you_  were the one that thought a family outing would be traumatizing. Fuckin’ typical.”

“Ay, lighten up,” laughed Mickey, He pointed out at the field. “Here comes Liam.”

Liam was wearing his red and white uniform, the colors bright against the brown, dead grass of the field, and he was wearing his lucky yellow armband. Mickey had listened to him talk for an hour about why it was so special once, something about ice skating and Carl and averted broken bones.

The game started with a sharp whistle from the referee, and they sat back to watch the kids zoom around the field in their colorful cleats. Well, Mickey sat back. The rest of the Gallaghers, including Ian, screamed around him, yelling about obvious fouls and bullshit calls and cheering Liam on. Liam seemed half-amused and half-annoyed, but Mickey figured he’d been dealing with this crazy Gallagher intramural-sports spirit for as long as he’d played soccer.

“Bullshit!” Ian yelled, after some huge kid tripped Liam and dropped him to the ground, and all he got was a fucking warning from the ref. That earned Ian some dirty looks from the parents around them, but he just shrugged them off.

He kept inching closer to Mickey on the bench, their shoulders brushing and then full-on pressed against each other, until his head was practically in Mickey’s neck. If Mickey’s neck wasn’t wrapped in a scarf, that was. Ian was a warm, grounding weight against Mickey’s side, and he was kinda fucking proud of himself, that he’d let Ian in so close. When he was a kid, he never would’ve imagined this for himself, never would’ve let himself dream about dating a guy, dating a guy like  _Ian_ , and going on dates and living together and huddling for warmth at a fucking soccer game for everyone to see.

The game stretched on for a long time, and Mickey wasn’t quite sure who was winning, and even with all his layers it was really fucking cold, but it wasn’t so bad with Ian beside him, with Debbie smiling at him, with Fiona and Carl cheering louder than anyone else in the stands. It was chaotic and noisy and it felt a whole fucking lot like family.

\---

Ian threw Mickey up against the cold metal of the door when they got back to his car after the game, and kissed him breathless.

“Oh,” Mickey sighed, between kisses, “Your family could see. There are. People - people around.”

“They already left,” Ian grinned, moving his hands up to clutch at Mickey’s head, kissing him deep and slow and then pulling away, leaving Mickey to arch up into the space between them. “And who cares about everyone else.”

“Okay,” Mickey said, because his brain was swimming and Ian’s lips made the whole world spin and he would probably agree to anything.

Ian’s whole body was flush against Mickey’s, and he could feel the hard line of Ian’s cock through his jeans, and  _fuck_ , they were in public but Mickey couldn’t be bothered to give a shit.

“Get in the damn car,” Ian growled into his ear, and Mickey’s hands scrambled with the keys and the lock and the door handle, and he got it open after an embarrassingly long amount of time, because Ian’s hands on his hips and the way he pulled down Mickey’s scarf to mouth at his neck was really fucking distracting.

They tumbled inside and Mickey slammed the door behind them, and he ended up squashed against the driver’s seat, Ian in his lap, working his fingers around the edge of Mickey’s scarf to slip it off. Ian began moving his hips, rubbing against Mickey in the most infuriating way, and Mickey really wanted to be naked, but the freezing temperature of the car and the fact that both of them were pretty close already made that impossible.

They rutted against each other, hips twisting and bucking, rubbing their cocks through the stupidly thick fabric of their jeans, and Ian’s fingers were in Mickey’s hair, they were trailing down his neck. They kissed and kissed and kissed, and Mickey felt himself tumble over the edge, Ian not far behind, and they collapsed against the seat, tangled together in the cramped space; their jeans and coats and scarves and hair were terribly messy.

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned, running his hands through Ian’s disheveled hair and pressing a few quick kisses to the delicious pink of his cheeks. “Car sex is tougher than it looks.”

“I think we managed,” Ian said against his neck, and Mickey could feel the imprint of his smile on his skin. It made his chest tighten, involuntarily.

“Yeah,” agreed Mickey, and they sat there, basking in the warmth of each other. He watched Ian lay his head down on Mickey’s chest, he felt something swell inside him, he was so fucking in love and the world was going on around them, and Mickey pressed a kiss to the top of Ian’s head, breathing in the faint smell of sweat and his shampoo and the winter cold, and he smiled into Ian’s hair.


End file.
